Hetalia: Elder Scrolls
by TheThing12
Summary: What happens when the Provinces of Tamriel get personifications like in Hetalia? Well... Only one way to find out in these little short stories filled with all your favorite Provinces!
1. Chapter 1: Meeting of Tamriel

**Hey! This is gonna be a simple Side Project I'll be working on in between Chapters for other Fanfics. I'm a little iffy on Elder Scrolls lore these days, so if I mess anything up, feel free to tell me! Otherwise, I'll be using UESP for references. Hope you guys enjoy! -TheThing12  
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* * *

"Alright, my Servan-... I mean Men!" A latino skinned Male stood at the end of a longtable. He had brown eyes and semi-long black hair. With Imperial Palace Guard armor on, he used his Silver Sword to point to a map of Tamriel.

"The meeting of the Provinces of Tamriel has begun!"

That was Cyrodiil. He was sort of the boss.

Around the table, the other Provinces sat down, listening to what he had to say.

"HANG ON!" Another Male stood up, he had somewhat long blonde hair and blue eyes. He pointed directly towards another person sitting across from him.

This person was an Orc, with a rugged body and green skin. But I'm pretty sure you know what Orcs look like.

"What the hell is Orsinium doing here?! He's not even a Province!"

"Calm your Breton-ass down, High Rock!" Orsinium stood up as he slammed his fist into the table. "I'm allowed to represent the Orcs!"

"Like hell you are! You tortured my people for years with your little raids!"

As High Rock and Orsinium went at it, another Province to High Rock's side let out a sigh.

This Province has dark brown skin and brown eyes. Hammerfell.

"High Rock, what's up with you? I don't like him much either, but you're supposed to be the Diplomatic one here!"

"/He's/ the Diplomatic one?!"

Another Province spoke. A tall blonde haired Man with pointy ears stood up. He wore a Mage's robe and a staff was slung across his back.

"I'm the only one with any sense, here! The rest of you are just idiots just waiting to be conquered!"

"Shut up, Summerset Isles! I'm still pissed at you about the whole War thing in the Second Era!" High Rock once again spoke up.

"The throne was empty and Me, Elsweyr, and Valenwood just took the chance!"

He pointed to two individuals. One was a rather short brown haired girl with point ears, green eyes and a bow slung across her back. She simply sighed and tapped on the wooden table.

The other was a cat-like man with a tiger like pattern across his fur. He reached into his pocket and slyly pulled out a bottle of Skooma while everyone was distracted.

"Hey! My guys did just as good as your guys!" At that moment, a brown haired man stood up, his eyes were a light blue and a beard was shown across his face. He wore fur armor and a large sword was on his back. Skyrim.

"Me, Morrowind, and Black Marsh would have kicked your asses if Cyrodiil didn't step in!"

To his left, a blue skinned girl with red eyes sat next to a reptilian like man.

"It's Argonia, actually." He casually put his input in.

"**Alright! Narrator time! So, during the Second Era, Cyrodiil was weakened and all the other Provinces tried to claim the Ruby Throne so that they would be the Superior Province! Three teams were formed: High Rock, Orsinium, and Hammerfell formed the Daggerfall Covenant! Which, by the way, was the first real time High Rock and Orsinium could get along. Anyways, Skyrim, Morrowind, and Black Marsh(Or, Argonia as he likes to be called), formed the Ebonheart Pack. Finally, Summerset Isles, Elsweyr, and Valenwood formed the Aldmeri Dominion. These three alliances fought each other over Cyrodiil to gain control. Meanwhile, poor Cyrodiil was left to fight on his own and he probably would have lost if he never met Tiber Septim! Anyways, let's get back to the story, shall we?**

At this point, Skyrim was drinking out of a bottle of Mead, but a very disappointed look crossed his face.

"Empty..."

He then proceeded to throw that bottle off, and it crashed right into Cyrodiil's face.

"...ENOUGH!" Cyrodiil shouted out. Everyone else went quiet. "The War ended a long time ago! No reason to get all mad about it! ...But, for the record, I totally kicked all your asses."

And so the Provinces continued to fight. Weapons were drawn, people teamed up, and we can all agree that the meeting was very successful!


	2. Chapter 2: The Great War

The Great War

"So... You think you can beat us, huh?" Cyrodiil said, holding a Silver Longsword in his hand. Hammerfell and Skyrim were behind him. Hammerfell was carrying a Schimitar and Skyrim was carrying a Nordic Sword.

The three were facing a taller opponent, Summerset Isles

"Yes. You will all fall to the Thalmor Empire." He said.

BREAK!

Alright, so let's explain, during 4E174 the Summerset Isles got into an argument against Cyrodiil about Religion or something. Because of that, he decided he would break off. Well, Cyrodiil didn't like that and tried to negotiate. Summerset Isles' boss eventually approached Cyrodiil's boss with an ultimatum. Unfortunately, Titus Mede II(Cyrodiil's boss at the time) was dead set on not accepting it. So he told Cyrodiil to go to war with the Summerset Isles. With Skyrim and Hammerfell assisting him, they formed a temporary alliance to deal with the Thalmor threat.

Unfortunately, the other Nations were too worried about their own homes to actually care about helping out and came up with excuses to not join in the battle.

Break Over.

"You won't get away with this!" Cyrodiil said as he raised his Silver Longsword. "The Empire will stay together! Come on you guys!"

Cyrodiil turned around to look at Hammerfell and... Wait, where was Skyrim?

All that was in his place was a little note that read:

_I'm sorry. High Rock's little brother is attacking Markarth. I need to go help over there._

_With Love, Skyrim._

During the War, Skyrim was forced to pull out because "The Reach", who was inevitably High Rock's little brother, was leading the Reachmen to Markarth under the command of Ulfric Stormcloack to take it over. High Rock wasn't taking sides but he was strengthening his borders so that The Reachmen didn't get in. But we'll get to that in another chapter, right?

–

"Goddammit! I knew that Nord couldn't be trusted!" Cyrodiil whined. "Grr... Guess it's just me and you, Hammerfell!"

Cyrodiil and Hammerfell raised their weapons as they charged towards Summerset Isles. Unfortunately, Summerset Isles had the upper hand because he was the most powerful Mage out of all the Provinces. Cyrodiil was a close third or fourth, but only because the Mage's Guild was a large factor in his economy.

Anyways, Cyrodiil and Hammerfell fought a long bloody battle against Summerset Isles. Eventually, they got pushed back to the Imperial City. At this point, Hammerfell was doing his best to secure his own land while only sending minor support from his army to help Cyrodiil. This took a drastic toll on Cyrodiil as the poor guy was all on his own with nowhere else to run. The Summerset Isles still had plenty of fighting power on him and Cyrodiil was losing army after army.

It wasn't looking good. In fact, Cyrodiil's main prize, the White-Gold Tower, was being burned down by Thalmor forces. Which sucked because that's where he kept all his books.

This event was split into two events. "The Sacking of the Imperial City" and "The Battle of the Red Ring", which was probably just a fancy way of saying: "Holy crap, that river around the Imperial City is red with blood".

"It seems your gods have forsaken you. Is there anything you want to say before I kill you and take over Tamriel?" Summerset Isles said.

"Alright, Aldmeri Dominion! I'll make my last stand here! I refuse to let you win!" Cyrodiil said, raising his Sword one last time.

"Bring it, Imperial Scum. I'll show you why your Religion is falsified. You believe in a fake god and other gods who don't even care about you."

"Grr... You're wrong! Talos has my back!"

"Talos isn't even a god! Tiber Septim was just a man!"

"Shut up!"

Cyrodiil was getting ready to charge when his boss stepped in front of him.

"Wait! Cyrodiil! You don't have to fight anymore! I surrendered!"

"...WHAT?!"

This was around the time when Titus Mede II completely gave up and signed something they called "The White-Gold Concordat". A.K.A. "We surrender! Please suppress our religious freedom so we don't have to fight anymore!"

Quite frankly, every Septim Emperor was shaking his head in shame. Even Pelagius Septim III... Which is saying a lot, since he was completely crazy! Oh, Mede Dynasty... Why did you have to be such cowards?

–

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU SURRENDERED?! TIBER SEPTIM WOULD'VE NEVER SURRENDERED! HELL, MARTIN SEPTIM WOULD'VE NEVER SURRENDERED! YOU CALL YOURSELF AN EMPEROR?!"

"Cyrodiil! As your boss I demand that you be quiet and accept these terms!"

"But.. but..."

"Cyrodiil..."

"...This is unfair."

In the end, Cyrodiil reluctantly signed the treaty, but only because his boss was telling him to.

The hardest part was breaking the bad news to Hammerfell, who was still doing his best to fight off the Thalmor.

"Uh... Hammerfell..."

"What is it, Cyrodiil? I'm about to enter back into battle."

"Well... Uh... About that... We sort of... Surrendered."

"...Now isn't the time for jokes."

"No! It's true! My boss made me sign a treaty with Summerset Isles! If it was up to me, I'd totally keep helping you to keep you apart of my Empire! Hey, maybe we can slowly build up to-"

"Stop."

Hammerfell no longer wanted to talk. He grabbed his Schimitar and started to walk away.

"I'm no longer apart of the Empire."

"But... Hammerfell..."

"No buts! Goodbye, Cyrodiil. Come back to me when you have common sense again."

Hammerfell walked away. Leaving Cyrodiil standing there with his hand out.

–

After the White-Gold Concordat was signed, Hammerfell was completely shocked at the Empire's actions. Because of this, he eventually broke off from the Empire and continued to fight Summerset Isles on his own. Of course, Summerset Isles and Hammerfell eventually fought to a stalemate and neither side could gain the upper hand. Eventually, Hammerfell and Summerset Isles signed the "Second Treaty of Stros M'kai" which made the Thalmor completely leave Hammerfell. It was around then that Hammerfell officially left the Empire. It's said that he still holds a grudge against Cyrodiil for giving up so easily and has totally put a sign up on his house that says "No Imperial Allowed".

Of course, around this time the Summerset Isles had pulled into Skyrim to deal with The Reach. Not really knowing about the treaty at the time, Skyrim thought that he was just there to gain ground and quickly went to aid Cyrodiil and Hammerfell again.

–

"Guys! I'm back! Summerset Isles is distracted with The Reach right now so I thought I'd help ou-... Uh... Guys?"

Skyrim looked around. The battlefield was completely empty.

Poor Skyrim, always the last to know about everything. He ended up crying himself to sleep that night with Mead.


	3. Chapter 3: Skyrim Civil War!

_After the "Markarth Incident" when the Reach attacked Markarth, Ulfric Stormcloak formed The Stormcloaks in an effort to kick the Imperial Empire out of Skyrim. This was mostly do to the Thalmor taking over the Empire and Cyrodiil falling to their wrath. Because of this, Talos worship was banned. Since Tiber Septim was such a large figure in Skyrim history, this really pissed a lot of Nords off! So... Cyrodiil fought Skyrim as Skyrim fought for independence. Meanwhile, Summerset Isles was just sitting there watching without a care in the world. Though, if you ask me, I'm pretty sure he was just using this as an excuse to weaken Cyrodiil._

"Jarl Ulfric Stomcloak is a corrupt traitor! You can't possibly be thinking of siding with him!" Cyrodiil said, getting ready to unsheathe his sword.

"He beat High King Torygg! Nordic Tradition says he's now High King!" Skyrim replied.

"YOUR TRADITION IS STUPID!"

"YOUR EMPIRE IS STUPID!"

"...How dare you! The Imperials are the greatest Race on Nirn! You have no right to insult us!"

"..." Skyrim slapped Cyrodiil across the cheek.

"...OW!" Cyrodiil put a hand over his cheek as tears started running down his eyes. "Now why'd you go do something like that? ...Stupid Barabarian..."

At that moment, Hammerfell raced right by them, riding on a Horse.

"...WHAT THE OBLIVION?! THAT'S MY HORSE!" Cyrodiil shouted. "WHAT IS IT WITH YOU REDGUARDS AND ALWAYS TAKING HORSES?!"

"NOT SORRY!" Hammerfell replied. "I DECIDED TO SIDE WITH SKYRIM FOR THIS ONE!"

"..." Cyrodiil fell over and started flailing his arms around like a maniac. "This isn't fair! I'm supposed to be your Ruler! What ever happened to Long Live the Empire?!"

"Because your Empire is made of Milk Drinkers." Skyrim shrugged.

"...That's a lie! We only drink Milk every now and then!"

"Really? Then what's that in your hand?"

"..." Cyrodiil looked down at the bottle of milk he was holding. He then quickly moved his hand behind his back to hide it. "Ale!"

"Yep. I believe that... Milk Drinker."

"Ignorant Barbarian!"

"Greedy swine!"

"Dragon-loving drunk!"

"...I'll make you a Zahrahmiik or a Zaam to the Dov if you keep that up!"

"...I have no idea what you just said."

"JUST KNOW IT'S BAD!"

"Grr... You realize that this means war, right?" Cyrodiil grabbed the hilt of his blade.

"Bring it! I'm not scared of a falling Nation!" Skyrim reached behind his back and grabbed the hilt of a greatsword.

–

_Meanwhile in Morrowind._

"My... My mountain blew up! I thought the Nerevarine fixed that!" Morrowind grabbed her hair and looked around. "Ancestors save us..."

"Hey..." An Argonian casually walked up to Morrowind.

"...What do you want, Black Marsh?"

"It's Argonia!"

"Whatever! What do you want?"

"I'm here to invade you."

"H-hang on a second!"

_A few hours later_

Black Marsh/Argonia/Land of Reptiles was sleeping on the ground. Next to him, Morrowind was inside of a cage.

"HOW IN THE NAME OF THE DAEDRIC GODS CAN YOU SLEEP WHILE KEEPING ME IN THIS STUPID CAGE?!" She shouted.

"Be quiet... I'm trying to get enough energy so to read my books tomorrow..."

"You stupid little..."

"Shush! If you stay quiet I'll give you some Septims or something."

_Morrowind never got her Septims. Seriously, these Argonians need to stop lying so often._

The end!


	4. Chapter 4: The problem with Storytelling

**Hey! Since it took me so long to update last time, I thought I might slip you guys a little extra. Enjoy!**

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"And that's when Tiber Septim brought all the Provinces under my flag! The end!"

Cyrodiil was holding an old book in his hand, the other Provinces sat around him with confused looks on their face.

"You are aware that Hjalti was from Skyrim, right?" Skyrim said, leaning his cheek into his fist.

"He became the first Septim Empire in /Cyrodiil/ and I'll have you respect that! You're just jealous that no honorable Heroes come from your snowy land!"

"Wha-... The Dovahkiin is more of a Hero than all your Heroes combined!"

"Oh yeah? I bet the Hero of Kvatch could kick his ass any day!"

"Maybe if he didn't become an insane Daedric God!"

"You both are wrong..." Morrowind spoke up. "It's not about whether the Dragonborn or Hero of Kvatch is better... It's about both of you knowing that the Nerevarine is the most powerful Hero of them all!"

"I beg to differ..." High Rock stood up. "The Agent is better than all of them... He defeated Numidum after all."

"I agree... A Hero that's willing to go beyond what his original quest was is an honorable Hero in my book." Hammerfell stood up next to High Rock and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Yeah... But he ended up killing hundreds of my Brothers in the process!" Orsinium declared.

"Who cares about a few Orsimer deaths, anyways?" High Rock shrugged.

"At least they can agree on things! ...Unlike your Bretons who couldn't agree on a Law if their lives depended on it."

"It's a very delicate decision!"

"QUIET! Let's just all go back to talking about the single greatest guy in all history!" Cyrodiil interrupted.

Valenwood raised an eyebrow. "...The Eternal Champion?"

"No! ...Although, he was pretty heroic... No! I mean Tiber Septim! You know, the awesome Emperor who was so powerful that the Eight Divines had to turn him into the God Talos!"

"Tiber Septim was no God! He was a mortal who had a high amount of honor! That is all!" Summerset Isles spoke up this time. "Now... If you want to know about true gods I have a couple of Elven-"

"What do you mean Talos isn't a god?! You might as well say Arkay wasn't a God, then!"

"Talos isn't a god because that would be completely illogical..."

"I agree with Cyrodiil for once... He's more of a god than Trinimac!" Skyrim stated.

"Trinimac is an honorable deity! You have no right to speak about him!"

"Like Oblivion we don't!" Cyrodiil said.

Just as Summerset Isles was about to respond Black Marsh cut in.

"Guys... Where's Elsweyr?"

"Good question... Hang on... Where's my Amulet?!" Cyrodiil looked down at his chest only to realize that his amulet was gone.

"And my lucky Hammer!" Orsimer spoke out.

_Meanwhile_

Elsweyr walked along a sandy desert. He carried a Blacksmith's Hammer, wore an Amulet, and had a bottle of Skooma in his other hand.

"They try to hold Elsweyr there to listen to their boring story... But Elsweyr is no fool! Elsweyr is wise and steals their petty wares... They can buy wares back, if they have coin." Elsweyr stated as he took a quick drink from his Skooma bottle.

"Yes... Elsweyr get more moon sugar later. Make more Skooma. Good for Khajiit."

* * *

"Alright..." A young brown-haired boy stood up.

He wore his Forsworn Armor, minus the helmet, with red face pain making him look slightly cooler.

"Time to prove that I am a legitimate Province and that Markarth will be mine!"

_To be continued... Maybe._


End file.
